


I Don't Know

by Illusion_Of_Sea_Axes



Category: Eleven Little Roosters (Web Series), Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: An AU where Michael and Gavin are both agents for Rooster Core, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 12:19:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13857648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illusion_Of_Sea_Axes/pseuds/Illusion_Of_Sea_Axes
Summary: Agent Michael and Agent Gavin are kidnapped.Their captors want to know something that neither of them know.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Here's an old piece I wrote a while back and recently fixed up a bit.





	I Don't Know

“You alright, Gav?”

 

Silence. All Michael could hear was the steady breathing of his partner and the slightly unlevel breathing of himself. 

 

“Gav? Gav, come on.. Talk to me, you bloody arse..” His accent briefly picked up, encouraged by the stress of their current situation. 

 

They were in some small room. The floor made was concrete, stained by things unknown, and the walls were made of cinder blocks. It was a familiar scene for Gavin, who was unconscious on the floor right now, and a vaguely familiar scene for Michael. Only difference this time was that Michael wasn’t talking to Gavin under the guise of a dysfunctional ear piece. 

 

Metal pipes were bolted to the ceiling and the walls, snaking beneath ground to do whatever it was they had been put there to do. Currently, Michael was bound to a particularly big pipe. Zipties were pulled tight around his wrists, keeping his arms hooked behind him and utterly useless. 

 

Gavin was sprawled out on his side a few feet in front of Michael. His hands were tied behind his back just like Michael’s. His hair was a mess, half slicked down and half wildly sticking out. 

 

Bruises bloomed along his exposed skin. Gavin’s upper body had been stripped (His Rooster Core watch included) of clothing and the skin was patches of discolored flesh that failed to hide years upon years worth of scars that Michael didn’t know all the stories to. Red patches colored split flesh. Dark purple and blue patches had blossomed where he’d likely been hit by more than one person and with more than just a fist. Blood dribbled from his nose and busted bottom lip.

 

Anger boiled under Michael’s skin, like an itch or an ache. Michael growled, putting force into his arms in an attempt to break the zipties. 

 

“Let us out, you fucks! You bloody bastards- LET US OUT BEFORE I RIP OFF YOUR BLOODY DICK AND SHOVE IT SO FAR UP YOUR ARSE YOU’LL BE CHOKIN’ ON IT!” Michael shrieked, using the usual vulgar threats the english-raised, jersey clone had become well known for. 

 

No one responded. Michael’s face scrunching up and somewhat resembling that of a snarling bear (or a wolf). He jerked his body around, hoping to either make the pipe come loose or to snap the zip ties. 

 

All it really did was bring back up the headache that had spawned in the back of his skull where a nasty bruise was forming. He swore he’d rip whoever was responsible to pieces and then mail their dick back home.  

 

Or chuck it off a random skyscraper. 

 

Whatever he felt like doing when this was all over.

He hissed as he felt the sharp plastic pierce into the side of his wrist. Warm liquid dribbled down his wrist and clung to his fingertips (fortunately not getting into his white tux even though it was already quite dirtied). This was only one addition to his injuries. A bruise had blossomed on his cheek, brought on by someone who thought hitting him with the butt of a gun was a good way to react to a snarky comment.

 

He was going to murder everyone in this damn building. Starting with whoever managed to slip that drug into Gavin’s drink. 

 

“Gavin… God damn it, Gavin…” He wasn’t mad at Gavin himself, the man was never one to turn down a drink and there wasn’t anything to say it was unsafe.

 

But it had been.

 

Now, Michael was going to have a hard time letting the other man drink outside of the safety of home.

 

If they got out. Not that he doubted it. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Gavin didn’t get out of this alive.

 

Michael shut his eyes as the head ache started to seep in behind his eyes, silently leaning his head back and gently pressing it against the cold metal of one of the pipes. His arms went limp at his sides once again and the drops of blood finally hit the concrete floor.

 

“M-Michael….?” His eyes shot open and he sat up rigidly, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain that flowed through his wrists. 

 

“Gavin!?” The brit’s eyes were opened slightly, one almost shut because of a bruise above it. Michael breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Thank god above… You.. You’re alright..” Michael tried to shuffle closer to his partner, but all he got was a further agitated wrist. “Shit..” 

“Y-You alright.. Michael…?” His eyes drifted to the rather big mark on Michael’s face. 

 

“Yeah.. Yeah, I’m fine, Gav… Just.. Tied up..” Michael watched as Gavin started to try and shuffle into a sitting position, hissing and whimpering as his injuries were aggravated.

 

“N-No, Gav… Don’t hurt yourself.. Please..”

 

“‘M f-fine.” Gavin whimpered, pulling on Michael’s heart in a way that made him want to cradle and nurse his partner back to health.

 

“I.. Damnit, Gavin, I’m so fucking sorry…” Michael’s head was hung forward as he forced away the urge to scream. Gavin didn’t need that right now. “I.. I couldn’t stop ‘em..”

“I-It’s alright.. I-It’s not like you could do much… ” Gavin sadly chuckled, wincing in pain. “They were totin’ guns around..”

 

“I.. I should’a done somethin’ though..” Michael answered, squeezing his eyes shut. He hated feeling helpless. Especially when Gavin was thrown into the mix. 

 

He’d always been able to be with Gavin and be helpful in some form back when they were still in one body. Sure, he’d been a prick but it had never been genuinely malicious and they had always gotten out.

 

Even when he and Gavin became two different people he’d joined him on every assignment and been able to help. 

 

Not now, though.

 

He’d never wished to be only a voice in a conscience as badly as he did now.

 

Michael jolted upright at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the room. Gavin looked up as well, eyes wide. The door slammed open and Michael would have snarled more of his threats at the sight of the well-armed soldiers outside, were it not for the man they were shoving into the room.

 

The man staggered, his torso stripped of clothing as well to expose the injuries that looked similar to Gavin’s, only this man seemed to have been given small burns. 

 

The man stumbled into the room and the door slammed shut behind him. Michael watched as he staggered into the wall and slowly slid to the ground next to him. Something seemed familiar.

 

Tattoos started at the man’s fingers and spiraled up his arms and over his collarbones. None of the tattoos held any symbolism to Michael, but the familiar face triggered Michael’s memory. He was missing his bowtie and the fang-brimmed hat, but it was definitely him.

 

“Agent Geoff?” He looked up and seemed surprised at the sight of Michael.

 

“Holy fuck.. Agent Michael!?” He glanced around and quickly spotted Gavin. He didn’t look surprised. “Agent Gavin.. Holy shit you guys look really fucked up.”

 

“You don’t look too great yourself.” Gavin answered, finally managing to sit up even though it clearly upset his wounds and his face screwed up in pain. Fresh blood dripped from his nose.

 

“Jesus, did they break your fuckin’ nose?” 

 

“Uh.. No.. I don’t think…”

 

“We’ll figure out when I get outta here and we get you to a bloody hospital!” Michael answered, thrashing at his binds again. 

 

“What the ‘ell, mate? They’re zip ties. You ain’t breakin’ outta those like that.”

 

“Watch me!” 

 

“You’re gonna tear up your wrists like that. God damn, you already cut yourself!” Geoff snapped, staring at the fresh blood dripping down Michael’s fingers.

 

“What!? Michael!” Gavin whimpered, starting to shuffle towards his partner even though it clearly hurt. 

 

“Fucking Damnit- GAVIN! Stop it, you’re hurting yourself!” Michael shouted, freezing his partner in place and earning a look from Geoff he didn’t care to try and interpret. 

 

“Hey... Agent Gavin.. What the ‘ell were they asking you back there?” Michael let Geoff take the conversation, focusing on escaping instead.

 

“Uh.. Well, they were asking about… They were askin’ about someplace in Austin... You know that banquet where all those people got murdered a few years back?” Something drifted over Geoff’s expression but Gavin didn’t seem to notice.

 

“Yeah, know about it as much as most people... Why?”

 

“They were askin.. Something about hiding places… And survivors.”

 

“They must be out of their goddamn mind. No one survived that bloody mess...” Michael answered, rolling his eyes.

 

“But you two are clones. That’s why they call ya Gavin the third, ain’t it?” Gavin nodded and Michael cast the Australian a look. 

 

A very small amount of people knew Gavin was a clone. One of them was Annersby, who had helped orchestrate the splitting of Gavin and Michael’s consciences, then there was the Colonel, and their boss (Michael never called him the Big Cock. Mainly because he burst out laughing at how stupid it was every single time or he made a very vulgar joke). 

 

“Yeah, we are, but that doesn’t make us survivors.” Michael answered, relaxing his arms temporarily. 

 

“I guess… But.. Maybe they think you have their memories?” 

 

“Well, that’s a load of bollocks. If I knew anythin’ I would’ve told someone.”

 

“Did they ask about anyone?” Michael asked, trying to use his bloody fingers to undo the ties.

 

“Specifically? Yeah. Someone named Haywood, I think…” 

 

“They asked me about ‘im, too. Ryan Haywood and then some other guys..”

 

“Ryan Haywood...” Michael murmured, rolling the name around on his tongue. It sounded bitterly familiar. It felt like more reasons than the one that immediately came to mind. 

 

“Other guys? Like.. Ah.. Someone named Ray, right?”

 

“Yeah, someone named Ray. There were some others two..”

 

“Ryan Haywood was the guy who survived that banquet, right? I remember the Colonel mentioning ‘im once.” Michael asked, rerouting their conversation. The name Ray made his spine itch. 

 

“Yeah. He’s a connoisseur or somethin’ like that.. Sniffs out saboteurs.” Geoff answered, shifting as if to get more comfortable on the concrete floor. Michael hissed as the plastic dug into his already open wound.

 

“Jesus, do ya wanna hurt yourself!?” Geoff snapped, shuffling closer to Michael with his eyes on the zip ties.

 

“Get the bloody fuck away from me!” Michael snapped, still trying to free himself. Still failing. 

 

“Shut up and hold still!” Geoff snapped and Michael frowned as the man shifted himself around so his hands could reach Michael’s wrists. Michael didn’t want to do what Geoff said, but the tone of his voice gave him a sense of deja vu. 

 

He hissed as Geoff’s fingers brushed against the wounds but the Australian didn’t seem to notice. He continued messing with the zip ties. 

 

“Hey! What’re you doing to him!?” Gavin asked, moving over to the two. “You’re hurtin’ him!”

 

“Shit, I can’t undo these things.. Gavin, can ya get the knife out of my boot?” 

 

“Knife!? What the fuck are you doing!?” Michael asked, trying to either pull away or see what he was doing. 

 

“I’m gonna try and cut the zipties loose.. You’re the one tied to the wall.” 

 

“Well it’s not like I’d be much help tied to the bloody ceiling, now would I?” Michael shot back. 

 

“God, it’s like that...” Geoff didn’t continue speaking but Michael was fine with that. 

 

“I got the knife..” Michael flinched as he felt the blade drift over his wrist, not cutting him. 

 

“God fucking damnit.” He muttered while Geoff tried to cut his zip ties. Then, he suddenly felt the pressure on his wrists release and he pulled his hands away quickly, holding them in front of his face while rolling his shoulders to ease the soreness in his muscles.

 

“I’ve never seen someone so happy to see their own hands.” Geoff commented and Michael turned to look at the man. “Now, can ya undo my ties? Those fuckers might come back for ya in a few minutes.”

 

Michael stared at him before he looked over to Gavin. “I’m freeing Gavin first.” Geoff sighed in frustration but said nothing and let Michael take the knife. He quickly got behind Gavin and started undoing the zip ties.

 

Once Gavin was free, Michael hooked his arms around Gavin’s body, careful not to place them somewhere injured, and pulling him close. Gavin rested his hands against Michael’s sides, pressing his forehead against Michael’s chest. The two remained that way for a bit before Geoff cleared his throat.

 

“You two wanna fuck first or are ya gonna help me?” Michael scowled, releasing Gavin who made a small noise. Michae shuffled over to Geoff, barely trying to avoid slicing into his wrists as he cut the zipties. 

 

“Thanks, mate.” Geoff answered, rolling his shoulders and flexing his tattooed arms to help ease the tenseness in his muscles like Michael had. 

 

“If I could, I would leave your arse here. You’re lucky we’re both part of the Rooster Core.” Geoff rolled his eyes. Michael took moment to look around the small room they were contained in.

 

“Can I have my knife back?”

 

“I’ll give it back to ya when we get the bloody fuck outta here.” Michael answered, pushing himself to his feet and limping over to the door. He wedged the tip of the knife into the lock. 

 

“Did a kangaroo kick ya in the fuckin’ head!? There’s a bunch of armed guards out there and they’re gonna put a fuckin’ bullet in ya the moment the door opens!” Geoff snapped, jumping to his feet. He stormed over to Michael, ignoring Gavin’s angry shouts. Geoff grabbed hold of Michael’s shoulder, wrenching him away from the door and spinning him around. The knife nearly slipped from his grip. 

 

“Do you have a better idea, you bastard?” Michael snapped, ripping himself away from Geoff.

Geoff glared down at him. He was taller than Michael, sure, but Michael didn’t seem to care. He glared back up at him with the same fury he usually held. Especially for anyone who dared to touch Gavin.

 

“We don’t have time for this.” Geoff finally said, turning away and walking over to the other end of the room. “We gotta find another exit. Or a weapon. Hell, both would be good.”

 

Michael shifted his gaze to Gavin, eyes softening. Gavin sighed, weakly pushing himself to his feet.

 

“Alright… Let’s go.” 

  
  


Michael stared at the guard in front of him.

 

He was strapped to a chair. Thick bindings of rope were pulled tight around his chest, around his wrists, and around his ankles.

 

The guards had been quick. Michael could still hear Gavin’s cries of pain ringing in his ears and the sound of Geoff’s head hitting the ground. Michael wasn’t even sure why he was worried about the asshole, but the thought didn’t make it any better. 

 

“You’re gonna answer the questions, got it?” 

 

Michael glared back, wondering if the blood dripping down his chin made him seem more frightening or just weak. Perhaps idiotic. 

 

“As long as ya ask me shit I can answer, yeah.” Michael didn’t see the guard’s leg kick out, but he felt the dull pain that struck into his bone where the foot connected with his shin.

 

“Watch your fucking mouth.” The guard hissed, leaning forward a little bit.

 

“Fuck off.” Michael braced himself for another strike. The guard did neither, pushing up his visor to reveal a menacing expression. 

 

“Now. What do you know about the Rooster Teeth Dinner Party?” 

 

“Is that what they’re callin’ it now?” The man scowled and Michael chose to answer it before he got hit again. “I don’t know shit, buddy. Just that it happened in Austin a couple years back and that there’s only one survivor. Maybe you should’a kidnapped someone from America. They’d know a fuck-load more than me.”

 

Silence, just a beat of silence where Michael could hear his heart beat. The guard straightened up, folding his arms over his chest. 

 

“Ten Little Roosters, all gathered to dine. One choked on his rage, and then there were nine. That ring any bells for ya?” 

 

“Nope.”

 

“Alright, then. What about the name Ryan Haywood? Know anything about him?” 

 

“Not really. Once again, I ain’t an american informant.” The guard’s hand lashed out, striking Michael’s across the cheek. His head snapped to the side from the force. 

 

“Answer the question.”

 

Michael slowly looked back up at the guard, flexing his jaw in response to the stinging. 

 

“I don’t know anything about a Ryan Haywood. He’s the only survivor of that massacre and that he has a gig looking for saboteurs. That’s all I fuckin’ know.” 

 

“Any idea where he’s hiding?” 

 

“Any... Why the hell are you looking for some random consultant? What would you expect two  _ British  _ assassins to know about some random fucking  _ American _ consultant!?” The guard’s hand snatched something out of his belt and he lashed out with it. The light whistle through the air was the only warning. Michael gritted his teeth as leather struck his exposed, badly brusied shoulder. 

 

“You really don’t know how to watch your fucking mouth. Do you?”

 

“I wasn’t really paying attention in the ‘how to handle an idiot kidnapper interrogation’ class.” Michael flinched away as the whip cracked over his arm. He scowled at the guard, face gone stoic. 

 

“What about a Ray Narvaez Jr.?”

 

The itch in his spine returned, making Michael fidget in his chair. “No... Doesn’t ring any bells.” 

 

“If you don’t start giving us answers, shit’s gonna get a lot more painful.”

 

“I’m givin’ you answers. It’s just not the ones ya want.” The guard pulled something else from his belt and Michael groaned, a howl humming in his throat, through his teeth as a knife sank into the spot where the whip had hit him. He leaned his head away, sucking in air through his teeth. 

 

“Alright, Michael Jones. Here’s a question you can answer. What’s your relationship with Gavin Free, The Third?” 

 

“I... What? I’m… Why the hell would you-!” Michael groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as the knife twisted. 

 

“Answer the damn question!” He opened his eyes again, vision briefly flashing. 

 

“I- We’re partners! Alright!? We work together, represent MI6 in the Rooster Core! I don’t know what else to tell you!” 

 

“You know, have you noticed that your ‘partner’ hasn’t been sleeping around as often?”

 

“Why the fuck would I ask my friend who he’s shaggin’? That’s his business, not mine.” Michael knew Gavin hadn’t been sleeping around as usual. After Michael moved in with him, he didn’t ever bring new people into the house. None that Michael knew about, anyway. 

 

“Well, I thought it would be your business. You share the same residence, same history-”

 

“Same history?” 

 

“You really are clueless, aren’t you? I’m shocked they even let you in the Rooster Core with how dumb you are.”

 

The anger bubbled up at the bottom of Michael’s lungs. The muscles around his mouth twitched.

 

“Ah, are you getting mad? You gonna threaten us, little man?”

 

“You better shut the fuck up.” Michael said, his lips curling into a menacing, grimace-like smile. 

 

“Why? Are you gonna call for your ‘Gavy-Wavvy’?” Michael’s smile dropped into a consfued frown. His brows furrowed before it dawned on him. He leaned back, ignoring the searing pain surging from shifting the knife. 

 

“Don’t call him that...” 

 

“Why? What’s he gonna do about it? He’s out cold, curled up next to that Australian fuck.” 

 

Michael’s body surged forward, although it didn’t do much good with the rope. Something hard smacked into the side of Michael’s head, a sharp cry of pain falling from his mouth as his vision flashed white hot. 

 

He went limp, head lolling to the side. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the sudden pulsating in his skull.

 

“You really don’t know when to give in, do you?” Michael weakly opened one of his eyes to see the soldier leaning unpleasantly close to his face. “It’s almost as if you want us to kill you.”

 

Michael spat a mix of blood and saliva into the man’s face, aiming for his eye. 

 

The man stumbled back and rose a gloved hand to his exposed face. Michael’s bloody lips quirked into a smug smirk. Then, there was something against his exposed shoulder blade. Something hot and searing, something that induced a smell of burning meat. Michael gritted his teeth, groaning in pain as whatever it was they were holding to his flesh spread the pain through his muscle.

 

Michael held back a scream, voicing his pain through bloody, clenched teeth.

 

“Now, you better start giving us information. I doubt you value this Ryan Haywood more than your own life.” Michael’s body shuddered with every breath as blood dripped down his face and onto the floor. 

 

He couldn’t muster the strength to give a response. His brain was pulsing inside his skull and pain was spreading through his upper back.

 

“One more time, then.” Michael groaned when the man harshly grabbed his face and forced him to look up. “Where is Ryan Haywood hiding?” 

 

“I… I don’t know…” The man’s brows furrowed and Michael could see the agitation in his face.

 

“The surviving Achievement Hunters. Where. Are. They?” 

 

“I.. Don’t.. Know..” 

 

“Wrong answer.” Michael didn’t have a chance to question it. The man shoved his head back, bending Michael’s neck back a painful amount and smashing the back of his skull against the back of the chair. It was so quick for a moment Michael considered whiplash to be added to his issues. His vision blanked white in that moment. 

 

Michael groaned in pain, head lolled back as he sucked in deep, labored breaths. 

 

“Where are they, Jones?” 

 

Michael repeatedly swallowed, trying to get rid of the coppery taste in his mouth. His throat was annoyingly dry. “I..” He tried to level out his breathing. “I don’t know..” 

 

Michael’s body flinched as the whip cracked over his shoulder blade. He hoped to God they hadn’t subjected Gavin to the same amount of pain.

 

“I was expecting you two to at least know something. Free, I get why he wouldn’t know anything but you? You have to know something.”

 

“Fuck you...” Michael answered, breathing in a deep breath that was abruptly cut off by a harsh blow to his stomach. He lurched forward, retching at the sudden disturbance with his insides. Blood splattered the ground between his feet.

 

“Disgusting.” 

 

“I... I know you are, but what am I?” A sharp blow to his ribs that made his lung scream.

 

“You’re more resilient than the other one.” You lasted longer.” The guard grabbed Michael’s head, forcing it upright. 

 

“If you don’t start telling us what we want, I’m gonna start breaking things.” 

 

“Well fuck me, then..” Michael panted, eyes half-lidded. 

 

“Maybe I should bring in Free and start fucking him up. That might get you to talk.” Michael’s heart skipped a beat, his eyes widening. He sucked in a deep breath, suddenly feeling in need of it.

 

“NO- No! Don’t-” The guard slammed his elbow into the side of Michael’s skull, sending him lolling again.

 

The guard walked over to the door, opening it a bit and talking to someone outside. All Michael caught was “go get the brit.” It was enough to make his stomach roil. 

 

“No... He...  He-he doesn’t.. He doesn’t know anything..” The guard walked back over, hooking fingers under Michael’s chin and forcing him to face him again.

 

“How would you know? You two have a telepathic connection? Cause if so, this’ll fucking hurt even more.” Michael gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as the guard pulled out the knife. The noise was loud to Michael’s ears. The hot, wet feeling oozing down his shoulder was informative enough. 

 

Another guard stepped into the room, judging from the voices.

 

“You didn’t stab an artery or anything, did’ja?” 

 

“Nah, he’ll live long enough for us to get him talking.”

 

In that moment, Michael considered lying. Give them a fake location, fake names. Maybe they’d let them go if they thought they got what they wanted. But maybe they wouldn’t. 

 

Blood was flowing from Michael’s shoulder, from a crack in the skin on the side of his head, and everything else was a throbbing, bruised mess.

 

Michael was jolted out of his daze by a short tremor that shook the floor beneath him. He wasn’t imagining it, as was evidenced by the confused look on the one guard’s face.

 

“What the hell was that?” The second guard asked, his gun close to his chest and his head spinning in an attempt to try and find the source in the tiny concrete room. 

 

“I don’t know. Go check it out. I’ll handle Jones here.”

 

“Yes sir.” The first guard nodded and ducked out of the room to leave the other guard and Michael alone. The door clicked shut behind him.

 

“Huh... Hey.” The guard lightly smacked Michael in the face to get his attention. “You know what that was?”

 

“I’m not a goddamn detective.” Michael wheezed, hissing as the whip cracked over his exposed chest. 

 

The other guard must have been weak or holding back, because this absolutely  _ hurt _ . He coughed, more blood dripping to the floor. He couldn’t see his chest, but he could guess from the pain as well as the sticky fluid that dripped down his chest that it had broken the skin pretty badly. 

 

“Do you hear that? Maybe it’s your little Rooster buddies coming to your rescue.”

 

Michael didn’t betray the small flicker of hope, but he did grit his teeth as the handle of the whip pressed against his chin and pushed his head up so he was looking at the guard again through half-lidded eyes. 

 

“Now, who do you think they’re gonna save first? You, or the two others who’ve spent more time in the Rooster Core than you?”

 

Michael glared up at the guard, wanting to spit in his face like the last one. “I’m gonna fuckin’ skin you.” He panted, his words rewarded with the sharp cracking of a whip over his face. More blood dripped down his face, springing from a cut across the bridge of his nose. 

 

“Wow, your threats are so scary.” The guard rose up his hand to crack the whip again when a loud siren blared through the room, a flashing red light making Michael screw up his aching eyes. The headache was growing even worse with all the noise. 

 

“Shit...” The guard hissed. He lashed out, striking Michael in the throat. Michael let out a strangled noise, blood and saliva coming out of his mouth as he took in deep, raspy breaths.

 

“Good thing you’re stuck in here. When they find you, they’re gonna have a hard time figuring out who the fuck was in here.” The guard gave the chair a shove, sending it falling backwards. Michael groaned through his teeth as he hit the ground, the impact vibrating through every bruise, bone, and cut.

 

The guard stomped down on Michael’s gut, sending acid up his throat. He turned his head, wheezing. 

 

Michael’s muscles suddenly tensed at the sound of a knife scraping on plastic. 

 

“Now... Where should I cut first... Maybe I’ll take off your fingers, first.” The guard walked around so he was standing above Michael’s head. Michael could see his boot come down out of the corner of his eye, the heel crushing into Michael’s left hand. He could hear sounds coming from his fingers under the pressure.

 

Michael groaned behind his teeth. 

 

His vision was sparking white from the pain. Then, there was a loud crash. A sound that echoed through the tiny room and made Michael’s head pulse heavier. It was followed by gunshots. Then, from what Michael could guess, the door smashed in. The guard screamed and then Michael could hear someone, presumably the guard, crash to the ground following a painfully loud gunshot. 

 

Michael didn’t move as he heard footsteps approaching him. He did move when he felt someone patting his face.

“Agent. Agent Michael. Agent Michael, please respond.” Michael opened his eyes, not recognizing the person staring down at him but recognizing the familiar Rooster Core watch on their extended wrist. “Oh thank god.” She whispered, pulling out a knife and slicing away at the ropes around Michael’s chest. 

 

He took the oppurtunity to take in a deep breath. One that burned at his lungs but was good for him. The woman went to cutting away at the ropes binding Michael’s hands. His arms limply dropped back to his sides while the woman sliced off the ropes around his legs.

 

The woman hooked her hand around Michael’s arm, pulling him upright. Michael groaned, vision swimming as he stood upright. The woman kept a firm grip.

 

“God damn… Agent Michael, we’re getting you out of here…”

 

“Gavin… What… What about Gavin?” 

 

“Agent Gavin is already being escorted out. Along with Agent Geoff.” Michael let out a relieved breath, stumbling out the door with the woman’s hand maintaining a firm grip on his arm. 

 

“H-He’s okay...?”

The woman didn’t answer. 

 

“They- they’re not too-”

 

“Save your breath, we have to get you out first.” 

  
  



End file.
